


do not enter's written on the doorway

by soaring_lyrebird



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, IRL Fic, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), and clap, even for a brief moment, he's just sad n vibin, i guess, there's two f-bombs but other than that i guess this is gen, you'll all watch as this boy pushes away his support network
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28395186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soaring_lyrebird/pseuds/soaring_lyrebird
Summary: Tommy stared at the phone icon on his computer, praying that Wilbur would leave him be if he ignored it, if he set his status to offline and acted like it was true.Wilbur persisted. On the third ring, Tommy picked the phone up.“What do you want?” he groaned, tilting his head to see his monitor.“Just- Just wanted to check in,” Wilbur said softly. “You seemed,” he paused, “bothered, by something. When you ended stream.”“It’s none of your business,” Tommy muttered, rubbing at his eyes.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 33
Kudos: 396





	do not enter's written on the doorway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [qar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qar/gifts), [like_theletter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/like_theletter/gifts).



Wilbur started the call, after one of Tommy’s streams ended abruptly and his mood had been drifting downwards. He’d muttered something to the camera about parents and dishwashers and left it at that. It sounded unconvincing even to himself. 

His audience didn’t need to know the divet he’s made in his seat, and how he hasn’t moved in two hours. They didn’t need to know about his empty water bottle, the ache behind his eyes, and how moving one limb feels like an impossible task. 

Tommy stared at the phone icon on his computer, praying that Wilbur would leave him be if he ignored it, if he set his status to offline and acted like it was true.

Wilbur persisted. On the third ring, Tommy picked the phone up.

“What do you want?” he groaned, tilting his head to see his monitor. 

“Just- Just wanted to check in,” Wilbur said softly. “You seemed,” he paused, “bothered, by something. When you ended stream.”

Of course. For once, Tommy was grateful for his ‘stans’ and the threads he’d seen about his privacy and respecting him as a creator, and how his fans couldn’t really do anything about it. Even after the mood drops and he takes off the smile, it meant that they wouldn’t bother him.

Didn’t stop Wilbur, though.

“It’s none of your business,” Tommy muttered, rubbing at his eyes. “What- What do they say? It’s ‘sad boy hours,’ Wilbur,” he chuckled to himself. “That means I- I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Wilbur did a half-smile. “I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do.” He toyed with something in his hands, out of view. “To cheer you up. Lift your spirits!” he said, with fake gusto. “Whatever you want.”

“Not now,” Tommy sighed. “Please.”

“I can help distract you!” Wilbur said, persistently upbeat. He wasn’t listening. “Or- wait. It’s okay to be sad, Tommy. I can leave, if that helps.”

“I’m-”

“Whatever you want, I can do.”

“Just- let me think!” Tommy yelled. “Fuck, now- now my parents are gonna get mad again. I- Thank you for the offer, Wilbur,” he said, more passive-aggressively than he meant. “Listen, though. Please.”

Wilbur flattened his hair and straightened his shirt. “Of course.” His eyes were soft and his voice was steady and resolute. He sounded so sure of himself.

If he wasn’t on the other side of a monitor, Tommy would punch Wilbur. It would be in jest, obviously, but he’d mean it more than he should. “I know you’re trying to make me happy but it’s not fucking working,” he murmured, hanging his head in his hands. “I can’t make myself be happy just by playing a video game, or talking, or stuff like that.” He sighed, looking around. “That’s not how this works. That's not how _any_ of this works." He went still. "And you can’t change that.”

Finally, Wilbur looked at a loss for words. His mouth opened and closed silently, like a fish, and he started fiddling again with the guitar, looking down and away from the screen.

A small part of Tommy burned with spite, as if making his friend go quiet in shame was something triumphant, and didn’t hang heavy in his stomach, making him grimace.

The unfortunate fact that all their conversations were on the computer made this both easier and harder than usual. If they were standing next to each other, Tommy couldn’t walk away as conveniently as he could just end the call. And Wilbur could message him relentlessly, and he could pretend as though he never saw them.

He didn’t want that, though. It would eventually lead to them drifting apart, not streaming together, and he’d lose another friend. He liked Wilbur, even if he didn’t show it, and they were good friends. 

In telling him to sod off now, he was potentially taking away the chance to talk again with him later. 

“I-” Wilbur said, looking pained. “Sorry for overstepping. I’m- I’m bad at this, you know. I went too far.” His mouth turned from a line into a half-smile, and he looked directly into the camera. His eyes pierced into Tommy’s eyes.

It made something like guilt and discomfort sit in his gut.

“But- But we’re here for you, Tommy,” he paused, and shrugged. “If you want us. You- you have lots of people that like being your friend, and think you’re fun to be around,” Wilbur said with a sense of finality. He went back to staring at the floor, contemplating. 

Tommy was jealous of how easily Wilbur could compose his thoughts. He kicked at his desk, saying nothing.

“We- we don’t want you to feel bad, that’s all. But you’re right,” Wilbur said, shifting in his chair. “I can’t just magically make you feel better.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, rubbing his arm. His mouth scrunched up into something resembling both a grimace and a pout. “I don’t really feel like getting cheered up right now. But- thanks, Wilbur, anyway.” He looked back up at the screen. “I guess.”

“No problem.” Wilbur adjusted his beanie, starting to strum again. “You can leave whenever you want, I don’t want to feel like I’m keeping you.”

“Thanks,” Tommy mumbled, spinning his chair slowly.

“We’re- we’re playing some Among Us, later, too, if you wanted to join." His mouth quirked into a smile. "Might switch it to Minecraft,” he paused. “If that’s something you’d like more.”

“Sure,” Tommy said half-heartedly. “Maybe later.” He hovered his mouse over the button that would let him leave, staring back at Wilbur. “Uhh, bye,” he stuttered, “for now.”

Wilbur gave a little wave.

Discord’s ‘disconnect’ sound played softly, and the room went quiet. Tommy liked the silence.

**Author's Note:**

> was this projection? uhh not intentionally. took around ~1.5 hours? 2 hours? i wrote this just to like,,use the line about 'magically make me happy' and shit.
> 
> first time writing irl fics, PogChamp. not sure about whether i'll ever do it again, but uhh. hope you enjoyed it? this was really just made for people to project onto lmao. we all need that sometimes, no judgement
> 
> title's from 'treehouse' by alex g. i hope whoever's reading this is doing well. lemme know your thoughts in the comments <3


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